


Challenge

by JollyTimeTraveler



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Beginning of smut, John Plays Rugby, M/M, Swimmer Sherlock, Teenlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 07:24:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2983994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JollyTimeTraveler/pseuds/JollyTimeTraveler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John always thought rugby was the toughest sport out there. Until he accepts a challenge by one of the varsity swimmers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Challenge

The words probably shouldn't have come out of his mouth. But he was an athlete, and a tough one at that.

Standing in the hallway with his friends, who also happened to members of the rugby team, they were all joking and pushing each other around when one of then brought up the swim team. That sent the group laughing. John didn't consider swimming a sport and neither did his friends.

"It's just going down and back, how boring is that?" John said, laughing.

"All they are are a bunch of whiners. Come and play rugby, see how hard that is!" One of his friends replied. The group was roaring with laughter when a deep voice cut through the noise.

"Excuse me. I heard you say that swimming is easy." John turned to see a skinny guy with a mop of curly dark hair and blue eyes glaring at him.

"Yeah, so?" John replied. He knew this guy, his name was Sherlock Holmes and he was the apparent 'star' of the swim team.

"You ever gone swimming? Real swimming." Sherlock asked, hands in his pockets almost lazily.

"Nah. I prefer a real workout." John replied, grinning. "Ever play rugby?"

"No, I prefer something with at least a semblance of class." He replied without hesitating.

"I bet you wouldn't last ten minutes at a rugby practice." John moved closer to him.

"You wouldn't last five at a swim practice." Sherlock said, his demeanor surprisingly cool.

"Oh please. Your practice'd be like a day off."

"How about a challenge." Sherlock suggested, stepping right up to John. They were almost nose to nose.

"You are so on." John said, eyes narrowed. There was a chorus of "oo's" from his group of friends.

"Meet me at the pool tomorrow morning, 5:30. I'll see what you can do." Sherlock gave him a smirk. "See you then. Hope you're better at swimming than you are at rugby." He turned and walked back to his circle of friends who clapped him on the shoulder, laughing and joking about the challenge.

John's hands were clenched into a fists and trembling with silent anger. His face was screwed up as he watched Sherlock's retreating back. His mates gathered around him, wondering aloud what Sherlock would do. He spent the rest of the day thinking on how he was going to kick Sherlock Holmes's sorry ass.

-

John walked into the pool area the next morning, bleary-eyed and struggling not to fall asleep on his feet. He looked around for Sherlock, wondering if he was even here yet. The smell of chlorine was overpowering and the pool area was significantly warmer than the rest of the school. He went into the boy's locker room, deciding that he should change, and froze. Sherlock was standing there, wearing what appeared to be a pair of knee length shorts except for the fact that they were skin tight and left little to imagination. He was in the middle of pulling a swim cap over his hair. He stopped, turning to John who was still standing where he was.

"Are you just going to stand there all morning?" Sherlock said, flashing a smirk. He tucked the swim cap and a pair of goggles into the waistband of his swim suit and brushed passed John.

John took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Though he didn't appear so with clothes on, Sherlock was ripped, long and lean muscles rippling with every motion. And John would be damned if that wasn't the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. He ran his fingers through his hair.

"John, if you take any longer we'll have to reschedule." Sherlock's voice shocked him out of his revere.

He shook himself and put down his backpack, pulling out his swim trunks, a towel, and goggles. He changed quickly and walked out into the pool deck. Sherlock had his swim cap on.

"Ready?" He said. His tone made John's blood boil.

"Let's go. What am I doing?" John said, pulling on his goggles.

"Racing me." Sherlock replied.

"What, right now? Just hop in and race?" John almost laughed.

"No, no. I can't do that. I have a work out to do. For now, we're starting with a warmup." Sherlock replied, pointing the wall where a chalkboard was nailed. Written on it was a series of numbers and phrases that made absolutely no sense to John.

"What does it say?" John asked after he took a good 30 seconds to read it. Sherlock didn't even seem surprised.

"It's my practice. The first line is the warmup. Four hundre." Sherlock explained, pulling his goggles on and looking at a large digital clock that showed the minutes and seconds.

"Four hundred?" John repeated.

"Yes. Four hundred yards. Sixteen laps." Sherlock continued.

"Sixteen?!" John repeated.

Sherlock's smirk was back in place.

"Not so tough now, are you?" He pointed out, blue eyes hidden by his dark goggles. John glared at him.

"Shut up." He snapped.

"I'm doing my warm up and then we'll have a race." Sherlock replied. He stepped up to the edge of the pool and dove in, streamlining underwater for over half the pool before he surfaced, long arms slicing effortlessly through the water.

John wasn't about to be outdone. He hopped into the pool and almost yelped. The water was freezing. If he hadn't been awake before he certainly was now. Sherlock swam passed him, flip turning and splashing water over John. He screwed up his face and ducked under the water, shuddering at the cold. He pushed off the wall, floundering for a few seconds before managing to get back to the surface and start on a very floppy freestyle stroke down the pool. He smacked his hand on the lane line that divided him from Sherlock several times, managing to get to the other end after much floundering. He stood up, panting, to see Sherlock still going. John was shivering and frustrated, his hair plastered to his head. He paddled back to the other end of the pool, deciding to wait for Sherlock to finish. By the time Sherlock was done, panting and stretching his shoulders, John was shivering.

"Ready for a race?" Sherlock asked, taking a drink from the water bottle he'd set on the pool deck.

"Course I am. You done with your warmup or are you going to go splash around some more?" John shot back.

Sherlock didn't even seem bothered, pulling himself up on the side of the pool with a surprising amount of grace while John struggled to clamber out. 

"Let's go then." Sherlock replied, dipping his goggles into the pool to clear the lenses. "Fifty."

"What?"

"Fifty yards. Down and back."

John was sure that if Sherlock's eyes weren't covered by his goggles they would've been rolling.

"You're on." John replied, stepping up to the lane.

"Take your mark." Sherlock said, stepping up as well.

"What?"

"Get ready." The exasperation was onvious.

There was a moment of silence, then Sherlock's voice cut across the pool.

"Go!"

They both dove in.

John flopped and immediately began swinging his arms as hard as he could, determined not to lose. He touched the wall and turned around, pushing off. He kept breathing in water, gasping and choking. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he made it to the other wall. Standing up and breathing harder than he ever had during rugby practice, Sherlock was lounging against the side, watching John.

"What?" He snarled, still trying to get his breath back. Swimming was so much harder than he'd thought. And Sherlock had made it seem so easy.

"I went a thirty-six. You went a minute fifty." He explained, obviously trying not to smile.

"So?"

"I win." Sherlock climbed out, pulling off his cap and grabbing his water bottle.

"Where are you going?" John climbed out as well, his arms and legs burning.

"To take a shower." Sherlock replied, leaning his head back to take a drink of water and exposing his long neck.

"Don't you have a practice?" John asked.

"Yes, but I'm the only one here so I'm not going to do it. Not today."

Sherlock walked into the locker room, John trailing after him. Sherlock turned on all the shower heads, filling the area with steam. John stood awkwardly by his bag, pulling out his clothes. He turned around to see Sherlock had stripped off his suit and was hanging it up in his locker to dry, walking nonchalantly over to the showers and disappearing into the steam. John stared after him, frozen again. His heart was pounding. Before he knew what he was doing he'd walked to the shower and stood in the entrance, watching Sherlock. Hot water ran down his pale skin and through his dark hair. His eyes were shut but they opened as though he'd known John was staring at him.

"What?" He said. "Is there something on my face?"

"No I uh...I was just gonna join you. I-I don't mean join join you but I was going to take a shower... As well." He stammered out.

Sherlock's body was more distracting than he thought possible. Sherlock raised an eyebrow but went back to scrubbing the chlorine off his skin. John backed up and, after a moments indecision, stripped off his swim trunks and entered the shower. He chose a shower head away from Sherlock and tried his hardest not to look at him, which proved to be fruitless since his mind was already thinking up a hundred thousand scenarios for a completely ass-naked Sherlock to be standing five feet away from him.

"You seem preoccupied." Sherlock commented, once again startling John.

"I'm fine." John snapped.

"You don't seem it."

There was silence and John turned to face him. Sherlock's smirk was back.

"What's wrong, rugby player?" He said, leaning his head back under the water. "Swim practice wear you out?"

That was the last straw.

John stalked right up to Sherlock, seized his head, and smashed their lips together, forcing him backwards against the wall. Hot water hit him in the face but he didn't care.

"John." Sherlock's voice was husky.

"Shut up." John snapped, kissing his harder. He felt Sherlock's hands on his back, touching and exploring and pulling him closer.

The shower area suddenly felt twenty degrees warmer. Sherlock opened his mouth, urging John on with his tongue, pushing against his mouth. John's hands slid down over Sherlock's muscles, feeling how they tensed under his touch.

"John." Sherlock repeated, drawing out the word.

"If you say my name one more time..." John threatened, moving to kiss and suck at Sherlock's long neck.

"Don't bruise me." Sherlock said, letting out a soft moan. "Then people will definitely talk.

"Don't be a dick." John snapped.

"John...." Sherlock said.

John ground his hips down on him, pressing his chest against him and relishing in the gasp he brought forth.

"Told you not to say it again." John said, adding a subtle hip roll that made both of them shiver in the heat.

"It's a good thing it's Saturday." Sherlock sighed.

"Shut up." John snapped, letting his hands explore farther down.

He wouldn't soon be forgetting the sounds he got out of Sherlock, or the fact that this was probably the best Saturday he'd ever had. 


End file.
